It's Too Late
by p-p-p-palindrome
Summary: [ baby bebop by Fransesca Lia Block ] I love you, Dirk. But I can't handle it.


**baby be-bop **by _Francesca Lia Block _Uh, just something I thought up this morning. I thought it was sort of nice, so I decided to write it up. It's all right, I guess, so I thought I'd share it with you. It's in Pup Lampert's POV, remember him? Yeah.

Well, just thought I'd give a slash warning, though if you've ever read the book behind it, you were expecting it.

Disclaimer :: consider it disclaimed.

I love you, Dirk. But I can't handle it.

The words still sting my throat as I run out of Dirk's house, the words that make my mouth taste like metal and my head hurt- I feel sort of like crying, but I know I won't- The dry tears build up in my eyes, like a dam about to burst. They ring through my head, echoing and multiplying until I can't take it anymore. I can't take it, at all. I can't…_handle_ it.

I love you, Dirk. But I can't handle it.

And I do. I love him. I think I've always loved him… But it never really sunk in until that night, that night in the Hot tub. I had Tracy Stace on top of me, ready and willing to do whatever I wanted her to, but I got more feeling looking over to my best friend than anything that night. I guess he's not my best friend, anymore… I guess we're nothing. I guess _I'm_ nothing.

I don't stop running until I'm home, and even then my mind is racing. _Coward,_ I cry to myself as I Slam the door to my room. Posters hang on the walls, some new, some old… A few had been hung way before I ever met Dirk. _He had the courage to tell you. You couldn't even let yourself be happy. You couldn't even let _him_ be happy._ It wasn't even as if I had to hide it from _him _anymore, since he'd come out and told me he liked me, too. It's just… I don't know. In a world of Tracy Staces and Nancy Nances, I couldn't possibly love him. Love…him. Those two words still don't seem to fit in my brain, but slowly, they're fitting. When I first thought of it, the two-syllable phrase repelled itself- It wasn't possible.

Now, though… It was true. I loved him. And I screwed it up.

I thought about going back to his house, taking back what I said, but I just… I couldn't. I couldn't go back, because I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't take it back, since it was the truth. I love you, Dirk. But I can't handle it. Coward. That's what I am- I'm Just brave enough to mouth off to guys twice the size of me and steal shit from the local drug store, But I'm a Coward when it comes to admitting I'm a guy-liker, a boy-kisser. A Dirk-lover.

I remember the first time we met- Why did he want me to meet him at that tree this afternoon? It just made everything too much, as if we were supposed to have the same ignorant innocence as when we first saw each other, forever ago. But we didn't- a Shared look in a hot tub changed that. Maybe he knew long before I did- Maybe he wanted me to like him back. I don't know whether that would have made me feel sad that he had to wait that long for me to just turn him down, or angry that I crushed him like that.

I scowl angrily, Wheeling about and punching the door- not much comes out of it, just a slight indent and bloody knuckles. I don't feel any better- In fact; just the sight of the blood makes me feel sort of sad. I don't know why- everything makes me feel sort of sad right now, Except for Dirk- just the thought of him makes me depressed to the point of unnecessary rage. I love him. He loves me. But I can't handle it. I love you, Dirk. But I can't handle it.

What am I supposed to do? I wish I could talk to him again- at least let him finish. Maybe by the time he stopped talking, I would have gained enough courage to let him love me. To let _me_ love _him_. Maybe then, I'd still be in his room, smoking the stuff I stashed in his bedroom… Maybe he would have kissed me. I'm still not sure whether or not I would have enjoyed that.

Just that thought alone- How I don't know if I would have liked him to kiss me- makes me mad; why can't I just accept it? I'm in love with him. I guess I'm just too afraid of what other people think, even when there's no one else there to think about it- I just visualize other people there, what they'd say… and I can't. I can't love him. I love you, Dirk. But I can't handle it.

I want to cry now, more than anything. I know I won't, though- I haven't cried since I was… very, very little. I guess after a while you just dry up. But if there was any time I would love to shed a tear, just let it all out, it would be right now. Scowling again, I let myself fall to the floor, the blood on my hands flowing more freely now. I try not to think of the one person's shoulder I would have loved to cry upon. Dirk MacDonald, The boy I shared my cigarettes and secrets with, my second part. My best friend, my soul mate? If so, I screwed up pretty bad, then.

By the time I Finally come to my senses, it's pretty late. I'm almost asleep, but I know what I'm going to do in the morning. It's got to be done- I might explode if I don't. Telling him was a pressure release, yes, but it wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't what _we _wanted. Was it? I wake up, and I'm numb. I'm scared, and I almost feel like backing out, but I don't. I won't let him down again.

Tracey picks me up, like always, and I almost feel guilty for riding with her to school, for what I'm going to do. I let her hold my hand on the way there, but I think she knows- She feels the disconnection that's always been there grow, like a gaping hole, a fatal wound. I feel like my mind has been ripped open, its contents spilled on the vinyl interior for her to see. I'm afraid that she'll say something, but I know she won't- even if she could see what was in my mind. The only way to have a perfect relationship with anyone is avoid the flaws, which was what both of us had been doing since the beginning. It was all a game. She was just a game.

We get to school early, and we sit at the bench we always do. She slips her small hand into mine, squeezing as if she's afraid to let go- she is. She knows what's coming next.

Tracey… I start. But I can't finish my sentence, because someone comes into view- a boy with a black Mohawk and a cold, dead stare. He walks up to campus, not a care in the world. I know there's a whole lot of cares underneath, though, but I can't see them- he avoids everyone's eyes, everyone's but mine.

Look what you did, they seem to say. Look what you did to me.

I love you, Dirk. I tell him in the unspoken language only me and him seem to comprehend, a conversation between pairs of eyes. I love you, and I can handle it. I'm going to be able to handle it. I bet my eyes are all lovesick and pathetic, because his rock-solid glare softens for a second.

It's too late, he silently tells me in those few moments, tearing his eyes away from me and walking on. It's too late.


End file.
